


Not In Words - Can't Remain Silent

by Lolanae



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Gen, M/M, Music, Some angst at the start, The Amis will fix them, beautiful idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolanae/pseuds/Lolanae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire have their first bad week living together.  Title inspired from this Victor Hugo quote - "Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! This one ran away from me a bit, and is going to be larger than I planned. =)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolras had their first major fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title based off the song "Icarus" by Bastille.

Grantaire didn’t notice that Enjolras had went to be early, or that midnight had passed, or that most of the night had passed, or that the sun had come up. He was focused on a painting. The past week had been a rather shitty one, and he hadn’t been completely - there. Enjolras was in a bad mood to begin with due to a migraine, so Grantaire was just letting him have quiet. 

In Grantaire’s mind, everything was great with Enjolras and himself. They had settled into a flow of living together, but this really was his first bad week since they began sharing the same living space. Grantaire wasn’t sure what started the moody week. He blamed the weather, but honestly, sometimes he just had times where he was content to be left alone for a while. Enjolras had helped lessen the bad times, but they still taunted him at the edges of his brain. Sometimes they slipped up on him. This was one of those weeks. He couldn’t completely explain it to Enjolras, even though he wanted to and Enjolras wanted to understand.

As the sun pierced the blinds in second bedroom that Grantaire had claimed as his art room (which made Enjolras happy to contain all the paint to one room), Grantaire sat his paint brush down to examine his painting. It was one from a photograph Courfeyrac had taken of him and Enjolras after they fell asleep cuddling. Grantaire usually never painted himself, but when it was with Enjolras, he didn’t mind. He heard Enjolras in the kitchen, so he went to see how he was feeling.

“Morning, how are you feeling?” Grantaire noticed most of the lights were still off, which was a sign to the migraine still being there.

“Did you not do any dishes this week, R?” Enjolras said in a way that Grantaire had nicknamed “I haven’t had coffee yet, leave me alone” voice. 

“Shit. I forgot.” _Partially true. Also didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want to. Didn’t really want to move much. Bad week. Tried to tell you earlier. You countered with how bad your headache was._ “I’m sorry, Enjolras. Go lay back down, and I’ll do some now. Want me to make coffee?”

“Don’t worry about it. Go back to whatever was more important. I’m up and in here now, so I might as well do it anyway.” Enjolras snapped. 

_You are crabby with a migraine and no coffee yet._ “Hey, I said I’m sorry. It’s been a rough week for me. I’m fucking sorry. Now, if you want to keep being an arse like that, I’m just going back to painting.”

“Fine. It’s all you’ve done all week.” 

“I told you this week wasn’t going great. You brushed if off with ‘It’ll be okay.’ I wish it was that easy. I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I was as cold as you. I wish I wasn’t partially broken.” Grantaire yelled back.

“And I wish I wasn’t having to always deal with your emotional issues! I wish I knew what to do to fix you.” Enjolras was standing right in front of Grantaire now. His eyes were cold, and his face was tight with frustration.

Grantaire felt like Enjolras just stabbed him. _You can’t really feel like that._ “I said I was sorry. Look, I’ll do the dishes and clean up some. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.”

“Stop being mean.” Grantaire snapped.

“Truth hurts, R.” 

Grantaire felt himself shaking. “If you really think that, Enjolras, get the fuck out. You knew what you were getting into with me. You KNEW I was damaged goods. So if you really think that about me – about us – LEAVE. Then you can go be an ass with a migraine somewhere else.” _Fuck, don’t cry. Stop it, R. Don’t let him win by crying._ Enjolras’ face changed as Grantaire yelled at him. He reached out to grab his hand, and started to open his mouth. Grantaire jerked away, “NO. The truth has a way of coming out when people are at their worst. Feel better now getting that out?” Grantaire knew he was being just as much of an ass, but he didn’t care – Enjolras had done the one thing he swore he never would. “I’ve been waiting for you to get fed up with my problems. Thank you for proving that fear to be true.”

Before Enjolras could insert his foot farther into his mouth, Grantaire went back to the room that housed his art supplies – his little bubble of sanity. He slammed the door probably harder than he should have. Grantaire was sobbing. He had been biting his inner cheek to keep it in some in front of Enjolras. The sound of him banging his head on the door was interrupted by what he guessed to be Enjolras leaving the apartment. Grantaire’s attempts to calm down failed. Enjolras was the last person he thought would hurt him. Picking up his cell phone, he tapped on the screen to text Jehan.

R: Mind if I come over?

Jehan: Not at all. Courfeyrac just left for work. I’m home today. Everything okay?

R: Everything’s fucking peachy.

Jehan: I have alcohol.

R: Of course you do, you live with Courfeyrac.

Jehan: Point taken. Are you okay?

Grantaire left that text unanswered. _No, I’m not okay. Not at all._  
______________________  
Enjolras’ head felt like a drum line was marching through it. A screaming match with R was NOT how he wanted to spend his first ten minutes of being awake. Not to mention, the entire sticking his foot in his mouth, but you’d be hell pressed to get him to admit he did such a thing. He did what Grantaire asked him to do. He left. Enjolras did wish he could fix Grantaire. Not in the way it came out of his mouth this morning, but he hated to see Grantaire hurting. Taking out his phone, he texted Combeferre.

Enjolras: I’m coming over.

Combeferre: Uhh, okay. What’s wrong? Its early morning on a Saturday. 

Enjolras: Can’t I just visit a friend?

_I’m getting tired of sass this morning, and it’s not even nine a.m._

Combeferre: Yeah. Do you need coffee?

Enjolras: Yes, and the stronger the better.

Combeferre: At the risk of you hitting me when you get here, what happened with R?

Enjolras: Why do you think something happened with R?

Combeferre: Call it gut instinct on the fact you are seeking refuge here when you should be in bed cuddling with R or some shit like that.

Enjolras: I don’t know what the fuck happened with R.

Combeferre: What did you do, Enjolras?

Enjolras left that last text unanswered. _Why is it always my fault? Even if I did swallow my damn foot whole._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://lolanae.tumblr.com/)


	2. Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t Enjolras and Grantaire usually end up ruining any plan we make to help them?” Joly just had to add.
> 
> “I need a drink.” Combeferre said, with a heavy sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this Chapter is from the song "Leave" from the soundtrack to Once.

Grantaire laid with his head in Jehan’s lap, intently looking at the water damage spot on the ceiling. Jehan had been braiding his long blackish brown curls for the last thirty minutes while they sat in silence, and he was the first to break the silence, “What did Enjolras do?”

“Why do you think anything happened with him? I have had a horribly shitty week outside what happened inside Apollo’s orbit.” Grantaire shifted his head slightly as Jehan moved to a new set of curls to get tiny braids.

“R, I’ve known you long enough. The only time you intently stare off into the distance like that you are trying to shut your brain up. Seeing as bright an early it is on a Saturday, when you usually sleep until noon on a good one, something is up, and you aren’t home getting Enjolras’ help. So before you bore a hole in my ceiling, what happened?” Jehan leaned over into Grantaire’s view of the spot, to which the only response was a grumble by Grantaire directed at his prying pillow.

“I’ll keep braiding your hair.” Jehan threatened with a smile.

“You know I don’t care.” Grantaire and Jehan had always been close. Their likes meshed, and Jehan never pushed Grantaire too hard when it came to what his bad days were like. “It’s been a bad week. I haven’t slept much.”

“I figured. You’ve been crying, too, judging by your eyes.” Jehan finished one tiny braid and picked another random set of three curls to braid.

Grantaire sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“I’m listening.” And that was all Jehan said for at least five more random braids before Grantaire closed his eyes.

“He said he was done dealing with my emotional stuff, and that he wishes he could fix me.” He kept his eyes closed.

“What prompted that?”

“He has had a migraine most of the week.”

“So you two got in a blow up fight when you were literally – both – sleep deprived, not feeling well, and emotional?” Jehan stopped braided for a moment and moved back into Grantaire’s field of view. “Open your eyes.”

Grantaire relented since the tail of Jehan’s strawberry blond hair was tickling his ear now. “Maybe.” He wrinkled his face.

“So you two beautiful idiots had your first major fight and neither of you know how to deal with it? Am I wrong?”

Grantaire was silent.

“What did you say to him?”

“That if he thought that he should just leave, and that I’ve been waiting to hear him say it.” Grantaire closed his eyes again. Jehan bent over and kissed him softly on the lips. (Something that was common for them. They had always just been like that, but never went more than friendship love. It made sense in their heads. Jehan loved Courfeyrac, and Grantaire loved Enjolras, though right now he wouldn’t admit that.) Grantaire grumbled at the attempt to comfort him.

“Then you texted me.” Grantaire nodded. “Where is Enjolras?”

“He left the apartment before I did.” 

“Combeferre’s place most likely.” Jehan finished another braid and popped back into Grantaire’s view of the ceiling. “I mean this for the simplest answer possible – Are you okay?”

Grantaire choked on the no that came out of his mouth. Jehan wiped the tears away from Grantaire’s cheeks, “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’m supposed to meet Courfeyrac for lunch, and you really need sleep, R.” Jehan eased Grantaire’s head out of his lap. “Sleep, okay?” He kissed Grantaire’s forehead. 

“I’ll try.”

“You know where the spare key is if you go out?”

Grantaire muttered yes as he closed his eyes again. Jehan turned off the light and closed the door. By the time he reached his living room, his cell phone was in his hand. There was three missed texts from Combeferre.

Combeferre: What is going on with Enjolras and Grantaire? I just got the oddest texts from Enjolras, and R usually goes to you for advice.

-40 minutes later- 

Combeferre: Apparently they had their first blow up. I’ve got Enjolras finally passed out on my couch. 

Combeferre: Emergency lunch meeting at the Musain to help these two knuckleheads.

Jehan: On my way. I’ll text Courfeyrac that our lunch plans have changed. Can you handle the others?

Combeferre: Already done. So who won the beat about how long it would take for this to happen?

Jehan: Remember we all knew this would eventually happen.

Combeferre: True. See you at lunch.  
_____________________

An hour before Combeferre had been looking at his cell wondering what happened with Enjolras and Grantaire. He had woken up Eponine to tell her that Enjolras was on his way over. She was finishing making coffee when he arrived. “What did you do, Enjolras?” Eponine greeted.

“Shut it, Eponine,” Enjolras snapped flailing on the couch and covering his head with a pillow. 

“If you want coffee, you get to start talking.” She never backed down from Enjolras. Combeferre took the liberty of Enjolras’ face being covered to grin like a Cheshire cat.

“Besides your migraine, what happened?” Combeferre decided to help Enjolras just a little.

“How do you know I have one?” Enjolras’ voice was muffled by the pillow.

“Because we know you, ya ass.” Eponine answered for Combeferre. “You’ve been prepping for the next protest, pulling all nighters, probably not eating, definitely not sleeping enough, and a human can’t live on coffee alone.”

“I might have swallowed my foot whole this morning.” Enjolras said to the pillow, interrupting the scolding from Eponine. “Grantaire’s had a bad week. I’ve had this damn migraine. I might have snapped at him.”

“And?” Eponine prodded. She had always been protective of Grantaire. Combeferre was biting his lip to not chuckle a little.

“And I might have said that I was tired of dealing with his emotional stuff and wished I could just fix him.”

Combeferre saved the cup of hot coffee from Eponine’s hand before she poured it over the couch, pillow, and Enjolras’ head. “What possessed you to do that, man?” The coffee savoir asked while Eponine grumbled.

“Not thinking?” Enjolras groaned realizing just how bad it sounded.

“No shit,” Eponine added. “Where is R?”

“The apartment. He told me to leave, among other things, then stormed off.” 

“Enjolras, remind me when your migraine is gone to punch you in the head.” Eponine said as she walked to the bedroom to text Grantaire.

“She’s gone, Enjolras.” Combeferre relayed. “Do you really think that about, R?”

“It came out worse than I meant it. I do wish I could make all his pain go away. I hate seeing a problem I can’t fix. I get frustrated when he can’t do anything and shuts down. I worry about him, and it scares me.” Enjolras hugged the pillow tighter to his face. “I love him, Combeferre.”

“I know.” He poked the blond, “Here is the coffee Eponine was about to use to give you a shower. It's spiked with whiskey.”

“Thanks. Maybe it'll let me finally sleep.” Enjolras lifted the pillow briefly to sip some of the coffee. “I let my mouth talk before I thought.”

“Did you apologize?”

“He didn’t give me a chance. He sort of shouted for me to leave if I thought that.”

“And you did, didn’t you?” Combeferre asked, exasperated already. There was no response from the pillow. “Have you called or texted him?” Silence. “Oh good lord. Here, you sleep. We are going out to lunch. You stay here, sleep off that migraine.”

“Not sleepy.” 

“I bet you money, Eponine spiked the coffee with something to help you relax.” Combeferre would be correct. Enjolras really did want to sleep so he willingly drank the mixture of coffee and whiskey. Perk to Enjolras barely drinking – it took very little to relax him.

Combeferre fired off some texts to Jehan while he went to go find Eponine.  
_____________________

Grantaire had felt his phone buzz while he was getting his hair braided, but he figured it was Enjolras, so he ignored it. Curiosity got the better of him after Jehan had turned off the light and left. The screen of his cell phone blinded him until his eyes adjusted.

Eponine: R, you okay? The ass is over here. I’m sorry. Combeferre wouldn’t let me pour hot coffee on his head.

Grantaire chuckled picturing how that scene played out. He tapped a message out in reply.

R: Attempting to sleep at Jehan’s. Barely slept all week.

Eponine: Rest. Text me later.

R: I will. Try to not kill him. I do still love him. I’m just hurt.

Eponine: I know you love him. We’ll talk later. 

Grantaire clicked on Enjolras’ name in his list of messages. 

R: I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden on you, Enjolras.

He waited for a reply that wouldn’t come. Grantaire thought it was because Enjolras was angry with him. Little did he knew, Enjolras was drunk from Eponine’s mix whiskey and just enough coffee to mask the whiskey taste. Grantaire shut his phone off and attempted to sleep.  
________________________

It was a little after one when all of the Amis arrived at the second floor of the Musain. There weekly meeting would be here tomorrow, but this was an emergency one. Combeferre was leading this one. Jehan and Courfeyrac sat near the front with Eponine and Cosette, who was cuddled up in Marius’ lap. Joly, Bossuet and Muschietta were in the back of the group, and Bahorel and Feuilly were in the center.

“So what happened?” Bossuet asked.

“Enjolras and Grantaire had a huge fight this morning, and now they aren’t talking.” There was a collective groan and replies of how they wondered when this would happen as soon as Combeferre opened his mouth. “You know we need to help them figure this out or life is going to be hell for all of us, right?”

“Who is crashing at whose house?” Joly the worrier, worried.

“Grantaire is asleep on my bed at the moment.” Courfeyrac looked over at Jehan when he said that. Jehan whispered something in his ear and a smile returned to his face. “I figure he’ll be surfing our couch for at least tonight.”

“Enjolras is currently, uhm passed out on my couch.” Combeferre added to the tally of who was where.

“Okay, I have to ask…why?” Bahorel chuckled.

“He had a migraine, which prompted this entire mess, and hadn’t slept. I had Eponine make him coffee.”

“Which form of booze did she flavor with coffee?” Courfeyac laughed.

“Whiskey,” she grinned.

“How are we going to get this two stubborn idiots to talk to each other like human beings after they both sleep some?” Combeferre opened the floor to suggestions.

“Lock them in a room until they stop being idiots, well, more until Enjolras stops swallowing his foot?” Eponine suggested, still mad.

“Don’t tempt me,” Combeferre snickered. “He already knows he messed up, but we all know he is clueless at how to actually apologize. Let alone admit he was in the wrong, and R is just as stubborn when he is hurt.”

“It’s going to be a long, very long week, isn’t it?” Feuilly almost sounded like he was whining, which everyone gave agreeing looks to his question.

“Let’s hope not.” Combeferre groaned. “Any ideas?”

Muschietta spoke up, “Well, we are starting opening mic during the evening hours, can either of them sing? That way they could say what they want, without saying it, ya know?”

“R plays some guitar, but I highly doubt Enjolras does or ever has.” Jehan was sitting in Courfeyrac’s lap now.

“You could play it for him, couldn’t you?” Courfeyrac asked. The poet nodded. 

“I kind of like this idea. We could sell a song to Enjolras like a speech or a debate. Couldn’t we?” Combeferre wanted to be hopeful of this plan, but he wasn’t sure at the same time.

“And keep R from finding out.” Cosette spoke up from kissing Marius.

“And keep hoping that Enjolras can actually sing.” Marius added. Combeferre is starting to regret texting the lovebirds.

“Don’t Enjolras and Grantaire usually end up ruining any plan we make to help them?” Joly just had to add.

“I need a drink.” Combeferre said, with a heavy sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://lolanae.tumblr.com/)


	3. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les Amis talk with Enjolras about Grantaire, who has his own plan that only Jehan knows about. Enjolras comes to realize just how powerful his words are in Grantaire's world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Imagine Dragons "Demons". Thanks for all the reads and comments. =) Be sure to check the notes at the end, but not before. *spoilers if you do*

As with every meeting on the Les Amis de l’ABC, most of them end up hanging around the Musain long past the end of the meeting. By seven that evening, Courfeyrac had gone back to work, finished, and returned. Joly, Bossuet and Muschietta were working downstairs (they blocked off the upstairs to the general customers) which left the upstairs for just Les Amis. There was one addition to the group now, however – Enjolras. Combeferre had gone to fetch him after giving him a few hours of sleep.

“Why am I here?” Enjolras groaned for the fourth time, hoping to finally get an answer.

“Because.” Jehan said as he typed out a text to Grantaire that he could go to the apartment if he needed since Enjolras was at the Musain for now.

“I already feel bad enough, so why am I here?” Enjolras laid his head down on the table. His head was better, but not better enough for an intervention about how he was a failure in his love life.

Combeferre spoke up, “You were pretty harsh to him, Enjolras.” He laid his head down on the table to look his friend in the eyes. “You told me you get frustrated when he shuts down and won’t do anything.”

“Wait, what?” Jehan’s head snapped up, and so did Eponine’s.

Enjolras looked down at the table, feeling the embarrassment paint his cheeks as red as the shirt he was wearing. 

“Do you have any idea what one of his bad days is like, Apollo?” Courfeyrac asked, suddenly and unusually serious for him.

“I think?” Enjolras tells the table.

“If you did, I don’t think you’d be frustrated with him. Or word it like that. Frustrated that you can’t help him. Frustrated you can’t make it better. But not frustrated at him for not being able to do anything about it.” Eponine scolded.

“I’m not good at emotional stuff.” Enjolras mumbled to his arm, having turned his head to hear everyone better.

Every single one of them said, “NO shit!” 

Enjolras looked up sheepishly, his blond curls falling into his eyes, and then thudded his head back on to the table, momentarily forgetting about his still nagging headache. “Fuck.” He sighed. “What do I do to make this up to him?”

“How about you try to really understand him first?” Jehan asked, still texting Grantaire – not that he was going to tell Enjolras. “You two have been living together for a month now. Friends for years, and we won’t talk about how long you two have both liked each other.” Jehan, the keeper of the unspoken glances, tilted his head at Enjolras and smirked.

“He texted me earlier, but I don’t know how to reply back,” was the only thing Enjolras could manage to articulate correctly and make come out of his lips. 

“Phone!” Eponine and Cosette said in unison, holing out their hands. Enjolras consented without a fight, which earned some odd looks from Bahorel, Feuilly and Courfeyrac. Even Joly did a double take. Jehan was looking back at his own phone.

“You haven’t texted him back after this?” Eponine passed Enjolras’ phone around. 

Enjolras put his arms over his head, holding on tightly to his own elbows, in an attempt to hide even more as they all groaned at him. “He isn’t a burden to me.” Enjolras was talking to the table again.

“Have you ever just asked him ‘How was your day’ or just take a look at his art stuff when he lets you and point out something nice?” Cosette asked, “I love when Marius does small things like that.”

“Or even gone in his art room? It’s like a road map to how his brain works, Enjolras.” Eponine added. When Enjolras let that sink in, he realized he never really had gone in there. It was Grantaire’s space, so he respected that, and he had never thought Grantaire might want him in there.

Enjolras honestly couldn’t believe any of this was happening, and he kept wishing he’d just wake up in bed next to Grantaire, with this all being some bad dream. “What do I do?” He begged. He didn’t beg, but he was hopeless at emotions and romance.

“Spend time in Grantaire’s shoes,” Jehan suggested. 

Enjolras looked up to see the nods and looks of agreement from his friends. “I’m not going to like this, am I?

“Probably not,” Joly shrugged his shoulders.

“How did everyone else notice all this, and I didn’t?” Enjolras bemoaned to the table. He heard someone choke on their drink and start coughing. Probably Courfeyrac.

“This would not be the first thing you completely missed, overlooked and/or ignored when it came to Grantaire, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac was still trying to catch his breath.

“Do you want him back?” Marius asked.

Enjolras nodded, still looking at the table. He was over seeing the looks on their faces. 

“Then trust us,” Combeferre said, patting Enjolras’ back. “But if you hurt him again, you’re grounded. And I won’t save you from Eponine.” 

Enjolras didn’t even have to look up to know Eponine was grinning. He closed his eyes and focused on the music coming from downstairs. They were directly above the stage. The acoustic melodies of some song drifted up. Enjolras’ friends had changed the subject from his failure at being a good boyfriend to the meeting tomorrow, and he hoped his headache would be gone by then. Grantaire might be at the meeting tomorrow, but Enjolras didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The more he thought about this morning, the more he wanted to crawl under the table and vanish. He wanted to understand better. He wanted to know how to help on those days. The days where it was hard to get up. The days where nothing sounded right in Grantaire’s head. The days where Grantaire fought to smile at anything. “I’m an emotionless idiot, aren’t I?” He asked out of the blue. 

“Idiot, yes. Emotionless, no. What you are feeling now would be called guilt.” Combeferre answered.

Apparently some of the group had gone downstairs while Enjolras was retracing the actions of this morning, and only Combeferre was still with him. “I hate that I hurt him, and I’m sorry that I did.” Enjolras admitted.

Combeferre handed him back his cell phone. “Then text him.”

Enjolras nodded and pulled up Grantaire’s message.

Enjolras: You’ve never been a burden to me, ever. Even when you are tearing my ideas to shreds in a meeting. I’m sorry. I love you.

He pushed send, and then showed it to Combeferre.

“Good start.” The man with the glasses smiled. He had been best friends with Enjolras for as long as either of them could remember, and he was the only one besides Grantaire, that saw Enjolras’ vulnerable side.

The music came to an end downstairs as the singer finished. Enjolras’ blood ran cold as he heard the new singer introduce themselves downstairs.

“Hey everyone. My name is Grantaire.”

Enjolras gulped. “Why is he here? He sings?”

Combeferre sighed and didn’t even tried to stop Enjolras from running downstairs.

“So past time for that drink,” Combeferre said to the table as he laid his head down briefly before going to save Enjolras from himself.

_____________________  
The stairs let out near the door to the Musain, so Enjolras was face to face with Grantaire the minute he stepped foot downstairs. Their friends looked as surprised as Enjolras was, except for Jehan. Enjolras made a mental note to talk to him later. Grantaire looked tired with dark circles under his eyes. He wore a knit hat over his mess of curls, some of which were braided? Enjolras looked back over at Jehan. Grantaire had on the blue checked shirt that Enjolras loved him in, since it brought out the color of his eyes, and he had on the same pair of raggedy blue jeans from this morning. His goatee was thicker than Enjolras remembered, but if Enjolras was honest with himself, he hadn’t paid much attention to Grantaire this week. The pang he got in his stomach made him feel like he might puke. _Guilt sucks._

Grantaire looked up from situating the guitar in his hands and adjusting the strings, and his eyes locked with Enjolras, who was now leaning against the back wall, near the door. Combeferre had joined him, and the rest of their friends were sitting in the table in front of them. Grantaire broke his eyes away from Enjolras, cleared his throat and began playing. His voice was soft but powerful, and it caught Enjolras by surprise. Grantaire, for all of his grand standing some days, was more comfortable in the back of the crowd; so it was captivating to see him so comfortable up on the stage. His eyes looked everywhere in the Musain, except for Enjolras.

>   
> I can't wait forever is all that you said  
> Before you stood up  
> And you won't disappoint me  
> I can do that myself  
> But I'm glad that you've come  
> Now if you don't mind  
> 

_Dammit, R, you aren’t a disappointment…_

>   
>  I hope you feel better  
> Now that it's out  
> What took you so long  
> And the truth has a habit  
> Of falling outta your mouth  
> Well now that it's come  
> If you don't mind
> 
> Leave, leave,  
> And please yourself at the same time  
> 

Enjolras found himself leaning against Combeferre to keep from completely sliding down to the floor as he listened to the song Grantaire was singing.

_I don’t want to leave. I’m an idiot. I don’t want to lose you. I want to understand._

The last part of the lyrics repeated a few times. When Grantaire’s voice cracked near the end, Enjolras’ heart stopped. Enjolras wanted to hug him. He would take whatever he had to take to make this up to Grantaire. 

“Thank you, everyone.” Grantaire said as people clapped for him. Enjolras did, as well, and he was really proud of him. He, honestly, didn’t know Grantaire could sing like _that_.

Grantaire walked off stage, right pass Enjolras, only glancing over at him briefly. Enjolras reached out for him, but Grantaire jerked away, leaving the Musain. Without a second thought, Enjolras went after him. Combeferre made a move to stop him, but Jehan grabbed his arm. “Let him go. Grantaire wanted him to hear that. We can help, but they both have to want to talk this out.”

Combeferre nodded as he grabbed Eponine’s drink. Not caring what it was, he drained it and ordered her another one. 

“At least they didn’t kill each other.” Joly sounded hopeful.

“Yet,” Bahorel added.

“For the rest of the night, the entire topic is off limits. I think I’m picking up Enjolras’ migraine.” Combeferre sat down next to Eponine and sank against her shoulder. He knew they’d have to talk about just how to put Enjolras in Grantaire’s shoes, but that could happen an hour and a few drinks later.  
________________

“R, please wait.” Enjolras called as he ran to catch up to him.

“Leave me alone, Apollo.” Grantaire’s voice was still shaking.

“Come back inside, please. It sounds like it’s about to rain.” Enjolras finally grabbed his arm. Grantaire jumped slightly, and Enjolras didn’t know if it was at him or the thunder.

“What do you want?” His eyes are troubled, and he was clenching his fists at his sides.

“You aren’t a burden to me. You never have been.” Enjolras was having hell finding the words to say, which was so outside his comfort zone.

“Liar.” Grantaire’s voice was icy, and a tone Enjolras had never heard from him before.

Enjolras gently held Grantaire’s arms. “I shouldn’t have said what I did this morning. I’m sorry.”

“Did you not listen to the song I sang at all?” Grantaire didn’t shake loose Enjolras’ hands for now, which Enjolras took as a minor victory.

“Yes. I wish you would talk to me, though.” Enjolras opened his mouth to speak again, but Grantaire spoke first.

“See, that’s the thing, I can’t. Not about this. When my head gets like this, none of it makes sense. I can’t formulate the words in the correct order. I forget half of what I wanted to say, and I get flustered. It’s like a mixed up rubix cube. You know it’s a cube, but the colors won’t match up no matter how hard you’ve tried. I fight to get the colors into at least some kind of order, but it’s a fight. Then as things improve, more colors fall into place each morning.” Grantaire took a breath. “If you wanted me to talk about the damn protest you are planning, I could refute every single thing you want to discuss there.” Grantaire was looking through Enjolras. “I can’t talk about these emotions. These thoughts. This mess. You hurt me. I almost feel betrayed, but that’s not the right word. The more I thought about this today, the worse it got. I feel like I’m being stabbed with a shard of broken and jagged glass. It just hurts, physically hurts, to do anything, and I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave, but I need sometime. I need you to try to understand how life isn’t all paints and you for me.”

Enjolras couldn’t tell if it was tears or rain on his face. He tempted fate and pulled Grantaire into a tight hug; which Grantaire didn’t return, his arms staying down at his sides. Enjolras kept him tightly in his arms, and Grantaire let him. The rain was soaking their clothes, but they didn’t move. Grantaire laid his head on Enjolras’ shoulder, his soft lips just grazing Enjolras’ neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m a fixer. It’s in my blood to want to fix things. I see you hurting, and I want to fix you.” Grantaire tensed. “Shit, I don’t mean it like it sounds. I just wish I knew how to help you on the bad days. I love you how you are. Dammit, I can’t think how to explain what I want to tell you, R. I’m sorry.” The drops on Enjolras’ face were definitely tears now.

“Welcome to my world, Enjolras.” Grantaire’s words tickled Enjolras’ neck. “Welcome to my world. I feel like that more often than you realize.” 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so oblivious.” Enjolras knew just how defeated he sounded.

“It’s okay.” Grantaire’s arms moved to wrap around Enjolras’ waist, which sent warm shooting up his now damp spine.

“No, it’s not okay.” Enjolras started to feel sick again.

Grantaire kissed Enjolras neck softly. “I’m going to go.” His voice still sounded far off. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

Enjolras lightly kissed him on the lips before he completely let go of Grantaire, who didn’t return the kiss, and Enjolras felt his heart sink into his stomach. “I love you,” Enjolras whispered as Grantaire walked off. That was the first time Grantaire didn’t say it back. He always says it back. Enjolras felt the sobs start to build in his stomach. His body started shaking as the full weight of what his words had done hit him. Whatever plan his friends cooked up to prove to Grantaire just how sorry he was, he’d do. Enjolras fought to catch his breath against the sobs, and his stomach gave up the battle against the nausea as he puked.   
_______________________

“Enjolras?” Combeferre’s voice came from a little ways off. Enjolras been sitting outside long enough that the rain had stopped. “You are soaking wet, you okay? Where’s R?”

“No, and I’ve lost him.” Enjolras knew he was still crying, but he didn’t care if Combeferre saw. “I’ve lost him.”

His friend sighed as he sat down next Enjolras, pushing the wet, blonde curls out of his eyes. “I doubt you have.”

“He didn’t say ‘I love you’ back when I said it.” Enjolras leaned his head against Combeferre’s shoulder.

“You two talked?” Combeferre wrapped an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders. He felt Enjolras nod his head. “That’s good. What happened?”

“He said he needs time.” Enjolras’ voice was barely a whisper. “He didn’t say I love you back, Combeferre.”

“Enjolras, that man has loved you even before you realized he did or that you loved him back. Trust me, he still loves you.” Combeferre stood up and held out a hand to help Enjolras up. “Let’s get you home before you get sick sitting out here.”

“Too late. Guilt sucks, and can I sleep on your couch tonight?” Enjolras could hear just how pitiful he sounded, and if it was anyone besides Combeferre or Grantaire, he would have just kept his mouth shut.

“You know you can. Come on.”

“I’ll do anything you guys plan,” Enjolras looked over at Combeferre as he tried to get his legs to warm up and work.

“How about you wait until you sleep some more before blanket agreeing to anything we manage to cook up?” Combeferre was happy to hear the change in Enjolras’ tone, but he also knew their friends.

“I’m serious, Combeferre. I want to learn, and I want to prove to him how sorry I am. I was wrong for what I said to him.” Enjolras sighed.

Combeferre thought he’d never see the day where the infallible Enjolras willingly admitted to being wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to stop by and say hi on [Tumblr.](http://lolanae.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you are curious about the inspiration for the son Grantaire sings, watch [this.](http://youtu.be/MVrhzaOIz4g) It's Leave from Once, covered by George Blagden. 
> 
> And if you haven't guessed it by now, this is one huge musical themed thing. I promise, I LOVE happy endings. =)


	4. Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras deals with the fall out of the previous day, and he manages to take everyone by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song "Echo" by Jason Walker.
> 
> Stop by and say hi on [tumblr](http://lolanae.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

Eponine and Combeferre were in bed when her phone went off around midnight. She was still awake, so she grabbed it quickly before the lit screen woke Combeferre up. 

R: If you are up, can you meet me outside?

Eponine: Be right there.

She tossed a pair of sandals on and one of Combeferre’s button up shirts over her tank top and pajama pants. Her brunette hair was in a messy half bun, but this was Grantaire, so she didn’t really care how she looked. He had seen her a dressed a lot worse and in a lot less than this outfit over the many years of their friendship.

When she got downstairs to the entrance of her apartment building, she chuckled at what she saw. Grantaire was standing there with Enjolras’ laptop case slung across his body and holding a kitten. An orange and silver fluff ball of a kitten. Grantaire’s curls were still a mess of damp dark hair, but he had put on dry clothes. “Do I even want to know where the kitty came from?” She looked up at him.

“He has been following me, so I picked him up to love him while I waited on ya.” Grantaire was scratching the cat’s ears, and it was answering in loud, soothing purrs. “Can you give this to Enjolras? He handed the laptop case over to Eponine. “He needs it for the meeting tomorrow.”

Eponine shook her head. “He hurt you. You two are both pissy with each other, and you are still helping him.”

“I’d feel bad looking at that all day knowing he needed it.” Grantaire looked down at the kitten, who was now pawing his hand to start the scratching back. He gave into the little furball.

“You are weird.” Eponine giggled as she watched the scene play out.

“You love me.” Grantaire smiled.

“Maybe.” Eponine grinned and then her face turned more serious. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. Wait, why do you ask?” Grantaire leaned his back against the building. The kitten was slowly falling asleep in his arms.

Eponine sighed and fidgeted with the cuffs of what Grantaire knew was Combeferre’s shirt. “Enjolras was in pretty rough shape when Combeferre found him tonight after he went chasing after you.”

Before she could finished, Grantaire interrupted, “Is he okay?”

She nodded, “But whatever you said or did, got through his thick skull I think. He pretty much came back here and has been asleep ever since. R, he even admitted he was wrong in what happened.”

Grantaire just stood there, speechless. He looked down at the kitten, who just meowed back to him. 

“R, you didn’t make this worse, did you?” Eponine worried.

“I don’t think so. I just said what it’s like in my head when I have the bad days. I told him I needed time,” Grantaire sighed. “I didn’t say I love you back to him when he said it. I was, well still am, mad at him. No, that’s not the right word. I don’t know.” Grantaire took a moment. “Without sounding bad, I don’t think I should forgive him the second he realizes just how bad he hurt me this morning.”

Eponine agreed. “I need to get back upstairs before Combeferre wakes up and panics.”

“Can you let me know how he is tomorrow, ‘Ponine?” 

“I will. You aren’t coming to the meeting, are you?” She asked, not surprised at the shook head he got in return. 

They parted ways, and Grantaire started towards Jehan and Courfeyrac’s apartment. The kitten decided he had had enough of being carried, and it jumped off and scampered away. “Bye bye kitty.” Grantaire chuckled in the direction of the furball’s escape.  
The entire rest of the walk, Grantaire tried to process that his words actually got to Enjolras; and even more than that, Enjolras admitted to being wrong. Even when Grantaire could prove him wrong with quotes from books and research, getting Enjolras to actually admit it was impossible. If he wasn’t so exhausted, thinking about this would have kept Grantaire up all night.  
______________________

Enjolras was woken up by Combeferre around elven. “Hey, if you don’t get up, you’ll be late for the meeting. You feel okay?” His headache was almost gone after sleeping for apparently almost twelve hours he figured after a glance at the clock near the television. “Better. Still tired, but better.” Enjolras noticed his laptop case on the coffee table in front of him. “R was here?” He felt a catch in his chest.

“He brought it by last night after you went to sleep.” Combeferre said, gripping his friend’s knee.

“Was he okay?” Enjolras ran his hands through his bed head mess of gold curls.

“Eponine said he was good, and he was heading back to Jehan and Courfeyrac’s when he left here.” Combeferre looked off for a brief moment.

“What else?” Enjolras braced himself. It did not seem like twenty four hours. It seemed like more since everything blew up.

“I don’t think he’ll be at the meeting today is all.” Combeferre took off his glasses to clean them with a small rag.

“I figured,” Enjolras sighed. “Is the hallway bathroom free?” Combeferre nodded. “That box of my old clothes still in the hall closet that I never took to the new apartment?” Enjolras felt a lump in this throat thinking about the place he shared with Grantaire.

“Yup.” Combeferre stood up. “I’ll make something for you to eat while you get ready.”

“I’m not hungry.” Enjolras protested, with a grunt.

“And I don’t care. You have barely eaten in the last twenty four hours. Actually, I don’t remember you eating anything yesterday.” Combeferre countered.

“Because I didn’t.” Enjolras added, with a faked grin.

“Case closed. You want fried or scrambled eggs?” Combeferre said, already pulling stuff out of the refrigerator.

“Surprise me.” Enjolras was still looking at his laptop case and thinking how Grantaire remembered he needed it.

“Do you remember how well that went last time you told me that?” Enjolras could hear the grin in Combeferre’s voice. “I mean, you do want Grantaire back, and the last time you said surprise you, ya know…you and Grantaire…”

“Gah! Enough! I’m going to get ready. And yes, just surprise me. I trust you, somewhat.” Enjolras said with a pound of snark and a slight grin as he went to get cleaned up. It hurt his heart to think about what Combeferre talked about, but it was a nice memory still. If Enjolras had to put a name to the emotion, the only one he could think of was bittersweet when thinking about it today.  
__________________________

Stupidly, Enjolras was holding out hope that a mop of dark curls would appear in the back of the meeting, with a pair of bluish green eyes that would sparkle every time their owner was about to challenge a thought that had just come out of Enjolras’ mouth. Everyone else had gathered around Enjolras, who was standing in the same spot he was sitting last night. Combeferre sat near him, and both of them had laptops open. Jehan had a notebook out, already writing. Enjolras had sinking suspicion that his and Grantaire’s fight had already made it into at least one piece of poetry, especially since Grantaire was staying at Courfeyrac and Jehan’s.

As if he didn’t already feel out of sync, he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans that he hadn’t worn in years. They still fit, but they were more his college finals week wardrobe, not his more business casual look that was his normal now as a professor with his crusades as a side job. Adding an extra punch to the gut was the fact that the t-shirt was from a concert he only went to because Grantaire was going with the group. Enjolras ran his fingers through his towel dried curls, pulled his notes out of his laptop case, and called the meeting to order.

“Before I start about the protest against the new taxes next week, anyone have anything bring up?” Enjolras regretted the question the second it left his mouth.

“Where is Grantaire?” Bahorel asked.

Enjolras was genuinely surprised when it was Eponine that threw a notebook at Bahorel’s head. “Not here, today.” He looked down at his notes and choked on the saliva in his mouth. They were covered in Grantaire’s soft hand writing. Enjolras flipped through each page of notes, forgetting about the fact he was center stage to all of his friends at the moment. Grantaire had gone through every page and written in his rebuttals to Enjolras’ arguments, as well as corrected typos. (That earned a note of “You really shouldn’t type and proof read at three in the morning.”) The last page had a small note:

_Now, you love me, so remember that, and don’t throw anything at my head. I got bored while you were at work. Love you, R._

Grantaire did this before their fight. The sick feeling in Enjolras’ stomach bubbled back up. He stood staring at the note, when Combeferre’s hand came into view. “You okay?” His friend inquired.

Enjolras shook his head, “On second thought, no. I’m still not feeling that great. Combeferre, can you run the meeting? I have the notes on my laptop, and I’ll get it back from you later.” 

“I can. Feel better.” Combeferre squeezed Enjolras’ shoulder.

“Thanks.” The blond, with the still damp curls, grabbed the printed out notes, his jacket, and left – ignoring the mumbles amongst his friends about how this had never happened before. Enjolras heard someone get up and follow him.  
___________________________

Combeferre got everyone’s attention back to him and off Enjolras, or so he thought.   
“I’ve never seen him like that, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac had a look of concern.

“He looks like he is sick,” Joly added.

Combeferre looked over at Eponine and then back to the group, “He had a rough night.” Some of them were about to open their mouths, but Combeferre kept talking, “Yes, he might have deserved it, but, that doesn’t lessen the fact of what happened after he and Grantaire left the Musain wasn’t easy for him.” That seemed to quiet them all.

“What can we do?” Feuilly broke the silence a few moments later.

“Be there for our friends.” Combeferre sighed.

“What about the plan?” Cosette and Marius both asked at the same time.

“Let’s see how the next few days play out.” Combeferre rubbed his forehead. “Now, let’s talk about this taxes thing.” 

____________________________

“Enjolras, stop.” Jehan said with authority, but gently. Very Jehan like.

Enjolras exhaled and turned around. “What, Jehan?” He couldn’t be mad at Jehan standing there in flower print shirt, that Enjolras swore he has seen as wallpaper, and an innocent look on his face. Enjolras knew that Jehan was not one to cross though, and he highly valued their friendship. At times he envied the close bond Jehan and Grantaire shared, even finding himself jealous before Grantaire and Enjolras became a couple. 

“First, I’m not here to fuss at you. Grantaire told me about last night.” Jehan walked up to Enjolras, “Shall we take a walk?”

“How is he?” Enjolras asked as he walked with Jehan down the row of shops next to the Musain.

“Okay. He didn’t get in until late last night, but when he did, he managed to get to sleep really quickly. We woke him up before he left, but he said he was going to go back to sleep.” Jehan tucked the notebook he had been writing in under his arm as he walked.

Enjolras knew Jehan probably held the best advice of any of his friends when it came to Grantaire. “Is he sick?”

“Apollo, you are worried.” Jehan smiled.

“Yes,” Enjolras whispered, knowing his voice sounded desperate.

“Grantaire is fine. You’ve never seen him like this before, have you?” Enjolras shook his head no. “I have a few times when we were roommates, and even after that. He has trouble sleeping a lot when he gets low. He described it to me one time has ten radios playing static and only one playing music. It was hard for him to focus on the music, tune the static out and go to sleep. So eventually his body just crashes. Yesterday was pretty emotional for him, which added to it.”

The sick stomach feeling crashed into Enjolras’ again. He swallowed hard to try to make it stop. “Did you know what he was planning last night?”

“I had an idea.” Jehan was being honest.

“Why couldn’t he just talk to me?” Enjolras leaned against the wall of a side alley they passed. The movement of walking was not helping his stomach, and he didn’t want to revisit the breakfast Combeferre forced him to eat.

“For being so brilliant, you miss things right in front of your face, Enjolras.” Jehan scolded in his own special tone of voice. 

“I keep getting that impression, especially when it comes to R.” Enjolras put his jacket on since it was getting chilly. When the scent of Grantaire hit his nose, Enjolras remembered where the zip up hoodie came from. Grantaire had left it there when Enjolras still lived with Combeferre, and he had just told Enjolras to keep it. Wrapping his arms around himself, Enjolras braced himself to hear what Jehan had to say.

“You do.” Jehan stood in front of him and gently pushed a rogue blond curl back behind Enjolras’ ear. “He picked the song, because he knew that was the only way you would listen to him.”

“I listen to him!” Enjolras snapped.

“Not when it comes to emotional things.” Jehan reminded, and Enjolras relaxed back against the wall. “Now, you two never really did the entire courting and dating stuff. You went from oil and water, to, well, together, and then I don’t think I’ve seen you two apart much.” Jehan softly snickered. “If I were you, I’d find some way to get back to basics. Grantaire is insanely easy to please,” Enjolras started to open his mouth, but Jehan put his finger over the blond’s lips. “He is easy when it comes to you. Grantaire has been drawn to you since he meet you.” Jehan put his entire hand over Enjolras’ mouth, “As you have been to him.”

Enjolras stared at Jehan, then blinked his eyes as if to say “Yes.” Jehan removed his hand. “I want to fix things with him, Jehan. I miss him. I didn’t even know he could sing like he did last night.”

“He keeps a lot close to his heart. It’s his way of coping. Just like your presence is your way of surviving this world. Grantaire doesn’t shine in a crowd like you do. He is more one for the wings.”

“But last night he looked so comfortable on that stage.” Enjolras was confused.

“He can be someone that isn’t himself.” Jehan looked like he just remembered something, “You didn’t know him freshmen year. That’s why.”

“Why what?” 

“Can your TA cover your afternoon load tomorrow?” Jehan was scheming, and Enjolras knew it.

“Yeah, won’t be a problem. We just had midterms, so all my students are brain fried at the moment.” Enjolras and a few of the other Amis were professors while they finished up Master Programs or looked for more specific jobs. They didn’t complain much, as it gave them time for their crusades, as Grantaire nicknamed them.

“If you really want to see a side of Grantaire you’ve missed, come to the theater around lunch time. Go upstairs into the sound booth.” Jehan grinned, which was never a good thing. Ever. Enjolras remembered the amount of grinning when Marius and Cosette hooked up, and the even worse amount when he finally admitted how he felt about Grantaire - to Grantaire. “Trust me, Enjolras.”

“You know I do, Jehan.” Enjolras smiled. “He said he wanted space though.”

“I know what he said. Whether you tell him you there or not is up to you. I’m just telling you where to see a side of him you haven’t seen.” Jehan explained.

“Got it. Thank you, Jehan.” Enjolras yawned. “I think I’m going to head back and get more sleep.”

“Take care, Enjolras. He does still love you.” Jehan called as he walked back to the Musain. Enjolras had learned that if Jehan said someone loved someone, he was never wrong.

As Enjolras walked towards the apartment he shared with Grantaire to pick up some things, he passed a small shop, where something caught his eye. Without a second thought, Enjolras went in the shop and bought the eye catching item. He walked the rest of the way home with a slight smile, because he knew he was going to get Grantaire back. Enjolras had a little bit of hope now.

__________________________

The apartment was dark and quiet without Grantaire there. Enjolras had now zipped the hoodie and refused to take it off for now. As he walked to their bedroom, Enjolras stopped and looked in Grantaire’s art room. His friends had told him this was a road map of Grantaire’s brain. (Or something like that, parts of last night were still fuzzy, except for Grantaire.) 

Enjolras flicked on the light on Grantaire’s desk to the left of the door. For the first time, he tried to really look at everything. There were drawings and paintings covering the walls. Small slips of paper with quotes. Paintings Enjolras knew Grantaire liked from famous painters. In the far left corner, Grantaire’s easel was near the window. There were pictures of all their friends, and more than one of Enjolras. A few of the pictures were of Enjolras and Grantaire together. (Enjolras plucked one of them off the wall just for tonight.) He turned and saw the painting Grantaire had been working out. It was the same image he’d plucked off the wall. Enjolras wanted to touch it, but he feared messing up the beautiful brush strokes.

In the far right corner, there was an old couch that Grantaire insisted upon keeping for this room. Many nights, Enjolras had come home late from helping his students, to find Grantaire asleep with his sketchbook in his lap on this couch. Sitting down on the couch, Enjolras was hit with a sudden wave of just how much he missed Grantaire. He reached over to the small end table and flicked on Grantaire’s iPod in its dock. Enjolras tapped through the menus until he got to the most played list and turned it on shuffle. He wanted to see just what songs Grantaire listened to in “his” space; because he knew what they listened to when they were together or with friends.

Enjolras laid back on the couch and dumped the contents of the bad from the shop into his lap. He popped the item from the packaging and closed his eyes. Enjolras began turning it and mixing it up, not stopping until the song that was playing finished. When it did, Enjolras opened his eyes and held the item in front of his face. “I’ll figure it out, Grantaire. I promise.”

He clutched the small cube in his hands and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for him to get to sleep as Grantaire’s music   
________________  
Grantaire needed some of his old sketchbooks to help Courfeyrac and Jehan at the theater. He figured Enjolras would still be at the Musain since it was only seven in the evening; so when he found Enjolras asleep on his couch, he was stunned. Grantaire quietly got the sketchbooks and took once last glance over at Enjolras. He felt his heart race a little and a smile paint his face. Enjolras was asleep in his old jacket and holding a rubix cube that was mixed up completely. Grantaire quietly left before he woke Enjolras up.

When he got out into the hallway, he breathed out that was followed by a rush of happy giggles. “He listened to me.” Grantaire called Eponine on the way back to Jehan’s to tell her what he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat Grantaire finds is a nod Zimriya's story - [Deus Ex Machina](http://archiveofourown.org/works/842055). She has put up with me bouncing ideas off of her for this story, so this is my way of saying thanks. =)


	5. This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have every right to be frustrated with him. I’m just worried about him. I haven’t seen him this worked up in, well, since before you two knuckleheads hooked up and there was enough sexual tension between you to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool.”
> 
> “Combeferre!” Grantaire’s face felt like it was on fire.
> 
> “Tell me I’m wrong.”
> 
> Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, I changed the writing style a good bit. I plan to go back and edit the previous chapters, but I wanted to let you know.
> 
> This was beta'd by the awesome decourfynated, as well as some idea help from Zimriya.
> 
> Title for this chapter is from Ed Sheeran's "This". You can listen to George sing it [here.](http://youtu.be/ysKxazYnih4)

That Monday morning is one that will go down in history when it comes to Enjolras and Grantaire driving everyone insane. Even before ten in the morning, Courfeyrac and Combeferre were both ready declare themselves done until the two offending parties (one moping and one hyperactive) properly talked to each other. 

Out of everyone, Grantaire is the happiest when he wakes up that morning, shocking Courfeyrac when he wakes up at seven to get ready for work.

“R, please tell me you’ve gotten some sleep.” Courfeyrac utters, stumbling into the kitchen. He rubs his eyes just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. 

Grantaire smiles, “Coffee is already made. And yes, I slept. And yes, I feel better.” 

Courfeyrac runs his hands through his own dark curls, while giving Grantaire a strange expression. “You are NEVER awake this early. Let alone – happy - at this hour of the day. The sun is barely up.”

“Oh I know, I was up in time to see sunrise. I even sketched it.” Grantaire proudly holds up his sketchbook. “You have a great view from the window in the living room.” 

Courfeyrac pokes at an empty plate on the counter next to Grantaire’s coffee cup.

“I cooked some breakfast.” Grantaire sips his coffee, still smiling.

“Okay. Enough.” Courfeyrac grumbles. 

“Huh?”

“Where is my Grantaire, and what have you done with him? You,” pointing at the smiling artist, “are not my Grantaire.”

Grantaire chokes on his coffee as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “I’m still – your – Grantaire. I never knew you care so much about me, Courfeyrac. I’m touched!” He makes a big show of holding his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt.

“Seriously though, R. What’s up? We were a mess this weekend.” Courfeyrac’s tone and body language changes to the more serious nature that Grantaire knows from meetings and rallies. “Now you’re all...hyper and happy. That’s a big jump in emotions in a short time.” 

“Morning, everyone.” Jehan walks straight for the coffee pot. Random strands of hair have escaped from his braid, and he is wearing the brightest flower print pajama pants Grantaire has ever seen. Courfeyrac and Jehan give each other small kisses on the cheek as Jehan fixes his coffee.

“Grantaire is scaring me.” Courfeyrac admits.

“Just because I’m up early and happy, doesn’t mean something is wrong.” Grantaire finishes off his coffee and places the empty cup in the sink. “By the way, I found the sketchbooks with the old set designs, so we can go over them today.” 

“Excellent! Think you can also help me test out the new mic system we got in?” Courfeyrac asks while he waits for the toaster to give him back his bagel.

“No problem at all. It’ll be fun to play around on stage again.” 

Jehan sips his coffee as he watches Grantaire. He tilts his head to the side and smirks. “What happened that you haven’t told me?”

A huge smile appears on Grantaire’s face. “He bought a rubix cube!”

Courfeyrac looks completely confused. “And that means what?”

“That he listened to me!” Grantaire beams. 

Jehan chuckles and smiles.

Courfeyrac grabs his bagel, looks at Jehan and says, “OK, I’m done.”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow at Courfeyrac, trying his best to look innocent. “What did I do?”

“Jehan, you speak his language. Tag, you’re it.” Courfeyrac walks off, chuckling. 

“Grantaire.” Jehan grins. “Spill.”

“While you all were still at the Musain, I went back to my place to get the sketchbooks. I figured Enjolras wouldn’t be there. I was a little shocked to find him asleep in my art room.”

“Yeah, he didn’t even lead the meeting yesterday. Didn’t feel well.” 

“What?” Grantaire looks up from his most recent doodle, “He – I, well shit. What was wrong? Is he okay?”

“If I tell you, will you promise to try to not lose this happy attitude I’m thrilled to see this morning?”

“I can try.” Grantaire starts doodling again. 

“Whatever you said to him after you left the Musain Saturday, it got to him. Combeferre said he found Enjolras sitting outside crying.” 

_Eponine didn’t tell me the last part_ , Grantaire thinks to himself.

Grantaire stops mid stroke of his drawing, “Well now I feel like – gah – I don’t know. Like I should apologize.”

“Stop. You spoke your mind – I’m guessing. And I have never seen you maliciously hurt anyone besides yourself.” 

“Still, I didn’t mean to make him feel that bad.”

“I know.” Jehan sets Grantaire’s cell phone down on his sketchpad, “Talk to him, then. I’m going to go get ready. We’ll leave in about thirty minutes. Good?”

“Uh,” Grantaire stares at the cell phone, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Before he unlocks the screen, the phone buzzes with a text message:

**Enjolras:** _This is Combeferre, I’ve stolen Enjolras’ phone. He keeps willing it to ring or beep, but he won’t text you first. So I am. He is sorry, R. Really. Trust me. He misses you. There have been tears!_

Grantaire snickers as he pictures Enjolras trying to wrestle his cell phone back from Combeferre.

 **Enjolras:** _Really, he has been moping since we got to work this morning. Granta-_

“And Enjolras gets his cell back,” Grantaire laughs. His cheeks flush a little wondering if there will be another text.

 **Enjolras:** _Sorry about that. I have not been moping!_

 **Enjolras:** I mean, I don’t know. I just miss you, Grantaire. A lot.

Grantaire reads the last text four times before he replies.

**R:** _I miss you, too. Have you been crying?_

**Enjolras:** _Yes. It’s just – more than a text message can hold. I need to head to class, but can we talk later? Please?_

 **R:** _Yes, we can. I’m sorry for making you cry._

 **Enjolras:** _Thank you, and don’t be sorry. Hope you have a good day._

**R:** _You, too._

Before Grantaire can text Enjolras back, his phone rings. He expects it to be Enjolras, for some insane reason, but it’s Combeferre.

“Hello, oh, stealer of cell phones.” Grantaire answers.

“I had to do something. He was sitting in his office just looking at his phone. Then he followed me to mine. He thinks he’s lost you, R.” 

“It might be because when I was upset the other night I didn’t say I love you back or kiss him.” Grantaire paces around Jehan’s living room. Sitting still isn’t an option if Combeferre is going to force this conversation.

“You have every right to be frustrated with him. I’m just worried about him. I haven’t seen him this worked up in, well, since before you two knuckleheads hooked up and there was enough sexual tension between you to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool.”

“Combeferre!” Grantaire’s face felt like it was on fire.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Silence.

“Right, now. I’ve hardly seen him eat since I forced breakfast into him yesterday. Think you can try?”

“Did his migraine ease up? He rarely eats during one of those from feeling sick at his stomach.”

“He said he felt better, but I wouldn’t put it past him to not tell the entire truth.”

“I’m heading to campus soon with Jehan and Courfeyrac. So I’ll take care of him”

“You are? You will? Thanks. I hate to ask, because I know he told me you wanted space. I just know—“

“Combeferre, it’s fine. Really. You know, he did actually text me after he wrestled his cell phone back from you.”

“Oh he did? Fantastic!”

“You know he is going to kill you?” Grantaire works on packing his messenger bag with his sketchbooks, pencils, and markers.

“You’ll protect me, right? I did save Eponine from killing him!”

“We’ll see. I’ll talk to you later.” Grantaire taps the screen to end the call.

He looks back at the messages from Enjolras. Seeing that it’s now almost eight, Grantaire knows Enjolras’ phone is sitting unattended in his office while he is in class. With a smirk, he texts him.

**R:** _Please take care of yourself today. I love you, Enjolras. And don’t kill Combeferre, well at least not until I get there to watch. *grin*_

Grantaire knows that should help when Enjolras finds it. Even still being frustrated with Enjolras, Grantaire can see he is trying – which means the world.  
______________________

Enjolras’ classes are in the pre-Law building. The only reason Grantaire is ever in this building is Enjolras. He knows that his first class should get out in fifteen minutes at nine, and then he’ll have an hour break. Looking in the small window in the door, Grantaire sees someone he first thinks is Enjolras’ TA since he is wearing a dark green hoodie and blue jeans; very different from what Enjolras wears normally to teach in. Then they turn around - golden curls spilling out from under the hood - its Enjolras. Grantaire’s heart both races and sinks at the same time, if you can imagine that feeling. 

The door opens letting out a few students that are leaving early. Grantaire takes the chance to sneak in and slink down into one of the chairs in the back. He can tell Enjolras’ migraine isn’t completely gone: squinting every time his eyes catch the fluorescent lights, how far he has the hood of the jacket pulled over his head, and the fact he is speaking softer than usual. (This isn’t the first time Grantaire’s snuck into one of Enjolras’ classes.)

As the students file out at nine, Enjolras turns back to the whiteboard to clear off his writing, Grantaire walks up to his desk. “You lied to Combeferre about your migraine.”

Enjolras freezes mid swipe of the eraser. 

Grantaire walks over to the light switch and flicks it off. He thinks he can hear a small sigh of relief from Enjolras, who still hasn’t moved. Grantaire sits down on his desk. He places his hands on Enjolras’ waist, and he feels the blond’s body tense completely. “Come here.”

Enjolras takes two steps back until he is closer to Grantaire than he has been in days. His breath hitches in his throat. “I’ve missed you,” is all he can manage when he turns around.

“Is that why you are wearing my hoodie?”

Enjolras looks down, trying to hide his smile. “Maybe. Thank you for turning the lights out.”  
“If it was still this bad, why are you here today?”

“Something to keep my mind busy.”

Grantaire eases his hands under the hood, fingers working their way into Enjolras’ hair, and Grantaire’s thumbs stopping over his temples. Slowly and gently, Grantaire began to massage the tender spots.

Enjolras closes his eyes at the welcome counter pressure on his head. “These lights don’t help, but I couldn’t just sit at home all day.”

“Skipping meals won’t help either.” Enjolras goes to open his mouth, “I know you never feel like eating when you have a migraine.”

“I see I have more reasons to kill Combeferre.” Enjolras’ whispers.

“He isn’t the only one worried about you.” Grantaire softly kisses Enjolras’ forehead.

“You are?”

“Yes. Even if I’m still frustrated with you, I don’t want you working yourself sicker than you are now.”

“You’re still--“ Enjolras’ words break off.

Grantaire pulls Enjolras against his chest and hugs him tightly. “Listen to me,” he whispers, “I missed you yesterday. I am still a little hurt and frustrated -- scared that you might hurt me again--”

Enjolras sighs.

“But,” Grantaire breaks the hug so Enjolras is looking at him, “I have never said that I don’t want to try to fix us. Just that I needed time.”

Enjolras’ eyes light up and he kisses Grantaire -- then freezes when he doesn’t know if that was okay or not. Grantaire gently kisses Enjolras back, and he finally relaxes.

“Can you hug me again?” Enjolras asks, his voice going slightly higher with nerves.

Grantaire giggles and pulls Enjolras into a hug. Enjolras slides his arms under Grantaire’s leather jacket, not wanting to let go of him.

“Did you come all the way here just to make sure I was okay?” The breath of Enjolras’ words makes Grantaire shiver a little bit.

“That, and I have some work to help Jehan and Courfeyrac with.”

“Can I –“ Enjolras stops mid-sentence.

“Can you what?” Grantaire bites his lip to stifle the happy giggle in his stomach from what he assumes Enjolras wants to ask.

“Can I spend the day with you?” Enjolras buries his face against Grantaire’s chest.

“In the theater department?” Grantaire can’t hold the giggle in anymore. “I thought you law kids were allergic.”

“Well, I think I’ve built up an immunity.”

“It might be loud. Courfeyrac wants me to test the new mics.”

“I’ll be a good boy and eat. I might even take medicine.”

Grantaire feigns being shocked, which makes them both laugh as they break their embrace.

“Seriously. I would like to spend the day with you, R.”

“I’d like that, too.” Grantaire smiles. “What about your classes?”

“I can put my TA to use.”

“Can you tolerate being stuck in a sound booth with Courfeyrac? It’ll be quieter there until your meds kick in.”

“I’ve – unfortunately – been stuck in worse places with him, so I’ll live.”

“Oh really! Do tell!”

“You know the story.”

“Nope, I don’t. I forgot.” Grantaire knows full well he is being a little shit, but it’s making Enjolras smile.

“Oh don’t even. Not today,” shoving Grantaire’s shoulder and laughing.

“You’re no fun.” 

“You love me though.” Enjolras says before he thinks.

“I do.”

Enjolras doesn’t even attempt to hide the smile hearing that creates.

“You might want these before we head out of here.” Grantaire hands him a pair of sunglasses.

“Thank you.” Enjolras’ puts them on. “I need to stop by my office on the way out, do you have time?”

“Plenty. Their morning classes aren’t out until ten.”

Grantaire walks a step or two behind Enjolras as they head towards his office. He leans in the doorway while Enjolras gathers his things. Grantaire can’t stop grinning at the fact Enjolras willingly wants to spend the day with him in the one part on campus he has never enjoyed. Enjolras checks his phone before putting it in his pocket, and says, “I love you, too.”

“Now, food, coffee and medicine.” Grantaire says, hooking his arm around Enjolras.

“Coffee sounds good.”

“You need more than coffee, Enjolras.”

“No, I don’t. It contains things from multiple food groups.”

“Uh huh. It’s not a meal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You aren’t getting your coffee until you eat – actual - food,” Grantaire warns.

“Now, who’s no fun?” Enjolras tries to deadpan, but he smirks.

Grantaire sticks his tongue out in the most mature of replies as they walk to the café on campus.

“Keep doing that, R, and I might kiss you again.”

“I wouldn’t complain.” He sticks his tongue out again.

Enjolras grabs Grantaire’s jacket and pulls him in for a kiss. “My Monday might not completely suck after all.”


	6. Chasing Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras steps in Grantaire's world, and it's a confusingly wonderful experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol
> 
> Beta'd by the awesome decourfeynated!

Grantaire grabs Enjolras’ hand and pulls him back before they enter the theater. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I want to, R.” Enjolras says as he sips his coffee. 

“It’s just hard to believe.” Grantaire admits, even though he is happy the stupid nagging doubt is still in his head.

Enjolras leads Grantaire to the side of the theater. He leans against the wall and looks at Grantaire. “Please let this come out of my mouth the way I want.”

Grantaire tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

“I admit that I talked to Jehan. I was lost on how to prove to you just how sorry I am. He suggested trying to learn more about you. He reminded me that I tend to take things on first glance, rather than really looking deep. Everything with us just went from nothing to full blast so quickly. I took it for granted that you have other things in your life. I never realize just how bad things can get sometimes. I don’t know how to handle this or fix it or what I’m supposed to do, but I want to try. I’m trying. I miss you, Grantaire. I was an asshole to you, and I’m sorry.” Enjolras’ voice broke and tears he had been holding in roll down his cheeks.

Grantaire looks at Enjolras for a brief second - giving his brain a chance to process the fact that Enjolras just really apologized; and that it that sounded true, not like a desperate grab to get him to stay. 

“Say something, please.” Enjolras whispers.

“Thank you.” Grantaire closes the gap in between them and pulls the sunglasses off Enjolras’ face. His eyes are red from crying, and Grantaire rubs the tears off each cheek. “What you said was perfect, and I do want to work through all this.” 

“It was? You do?” Enjolras smiles.

Grantaire nods and kisses Enjolras, holding him tightly while they kiss. “I know I’m not easy to live with or love.”

“You could say the same for me.” Enjolras laughs.

“We’ll make it work.” Grantaire replaces the sunglasses over Enjolras’ eyes.

“Time to show me a side of you I’ve never seen?” 

“Yup, and to leave you in the hands of Courfeyrac.” Grantaire grins.

“As long as I don’t have to kiss him this time.”

“I knew there was a story!” Grantaire smirks.

“Bite me.”

“Maybe later,” Grantaire replies as they walk into the theater.  
_____________________

Enjolras sits in the floor of the sound booth. Courfeyrac gave him an iPad that was set up to watch the video feed from the stage. This allows Enjolras to sit in the dark while his medicine kicks in for his headache. Enjolras has shed the sunglasses and unzipped the hoodie. 

“Do you want a headset so you can hear and talk to them?” Courfeyrac asks.

“Sure. Thank you again for letting me sit in on this.” Enjolras says.

“No problem. We care about you two.” Courfeyrac smiles. “Now, if you want to take, just push this button here.” He points to a button on the part that looks like it’s meant to clip onto a belt.

Enjolras sits back in the dark corner again. On the screen, he sees Grantaire. He has taken off his leather jacket, revealing grey and black stripped sweater. Grantaire, with Jehan’s help, is stringing the wires of the mic underneath the sweater, and then looping the mic around his ears.

“Test.” He says, and his voice echoes in Enjolras’ head.

“Good so far.” Courfeyrac replies.

“How do you want to test this, Courfeyrac?” Grantaire asks.

“It’s not like you’ve never been on stage before, R,” Jehan smarts off.

Grantaire chuckles and pushes Jehan, which sends them both tumbling onto the stage. They end up laughing. “Get off of me, you dork.” Jehan snaps, still laughing.

“Make me!” Grantaire teases.

Jehan flips them over so he is on top now. “Remember, I’m stronger than you paint boy.” 

“Ass! I forgot just how strong,” Grantaire chuckles. He reaches up and kisses Jehan on the cheek. “Will you please let me up?”

Courfeyrac interrupts, “Will you kindly quit making out with my boyfriend?” He is laughing, too.

Enjolras watches the screen, confused. Grantaire is so open, happy, and carefree on the stage. There is a slight tinge of jealous when he kisses Prouvaire on the cheek. Then realizations that Grantaire is (and can be) open like this while sober. Enjolras wonders just how much he has missed.

“He started it!” Grantaire gets up and holds out a hand for Jehan, “And it was just a peck on the cheek.”

“Guilty as charged.” Jehan chuckles, as he stands up.

“Feel free to send mine down. I’d love to kiss him.” Grantaire grins.

“I’ve never seen him kiss Jehan,” Enjolras says, with his headset off.

“Jehan and he have been close since our freshmen year. They are best friends and have been nothing more than that since our sophomore year.”

“They dated?” Enjolras asks, placing the iPad back on the sound table.

“Is he coming down, Courfeyrac?” Grantaire asks from the stage.

“He’ll be a minute.” 

Courfeyrac turns back to Enjolras. “Yes, they did. Trust me, when I say, they are better as the close best friends they are now. Their relationship was too much for both of them. They are like you and Combeferre. Platonic husbands for life or something like that.”

“Heh. I dated Combeferre for a bit.”

 

“I know,” Courfeyrac winks. “If you need a dark place to hide down there, the wings on either side of the stage will be nice and dark.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to put this all back together?” Enjolras has completely abandoned trying to seem together today.

“Yes, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac squeezes his arm as he pulls the headset off him. “You being here is a step.”

“Why did he stop theater?”

“He fell in love with the designing of sets more. He still does stage stuff if I’m short bodies.” Courfeyrac adjusts his headset to keep his curls out of his face.

“I bet he is better at it than he thinks he is.” Enjolras wonders.

“You would be correct.” Courfeyrac agrees.

Enjolras fidgets with his lip and heads for the stage.  
________________________

Grantaire is sitting on the stage, with his feet dangling off the edge, when Enjolras gets down there. In this position, Grantaire is an inch or two taller than Enjolras. 

“Come here,” he whispers, grabbing Enjolras’ shirt and pulling him in. He slots their mouths together in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

Enjolras feel his heart skip about three beats in surprise.

“Hi,” Enjolras whispers when Grantaire ends the kiss.

“Well, now that I know the mics won’t pick up kissing sounds, can we actually test things?” Courfeyrac interrupts. 

“My slave driver wants me to work,” Grantaire stands up. “Come sit in the wings.”

“Over here, Enjolras,” Jehan motions to a grouping of chairs in the darkness behind the heavy stage curtain.

“Okay, Courfeyrac, what do you need from me?” Grantaire asks.

“Monologue and maybe a song? I just mainly want to see how these hold up to folks moving around the stage with them.” Courfeyrac’s voice comes over the speakers.

“Anything specific?”

“R, you know the entire works of Shakespeare by heart and who knows how many other plays and speeches you have memorized. On top of things you’ve written. Pick one!” Jehan says.

Enjolras looks surprised. “I didn’t realize all of this.”

Jehan just squeezes Enjolras’ thigh and smiles.

“Original work,” Courfeyrac solves the problem.

Grantaire rubs his hands together and bites his bottom lip. He turns his back to Jehan and Enjolras for a moment, putting his head in his hands. When he turns back, he faces out towards the theater. “Have you ever felt broken?” He asks the empty seats, motioning his hands out to them.

“Been broken inside when you look whole to the outside world? Everyone sees the perfection or the façade that you’ve worked so hard to keep steady.” Grantaire runs his hands the length of his body. He starts pacing along the length of the stage, running his fingers through his curls. 

Enjolras’ can’t take his eyes off of him, while Jehan doesn’t seem surprised at any of this. 

Grantaire continues, “No one knows that you are a puzzle inside with missing pieces or pieces with frayed edges, barely hanging to their foundations.” He turns back to the empty seats, “You struggle to hold all the pieces you have together in a form that will keep you sane,” Grantaire clasps both hands tightly against his chest, “– yet, there are still gaps.” 

He starts to poke his chest with his fingertips, and his voice becomes more rushed, almost panicked. “Small holes that turn into deep cavernous pits in a moment’s notice. Pits that could easily swallow you whole. Pits that can take away pieces from you. Pits that taunt and mimic you in your darkest days.”

Then he stops. His voice switches to a surprisingly happy tone, “Then one day, someone gives you some of the missing pieces. They tell you they should work. They should patch the holes. They should hold you together. You sit and stare at them.” He holds his hands out and pretends to be flipping pieces in his left hand. “Could they be your magic beans to grow a beanstalk out of this pit you’ve fallen into?”

Grantaire steps back enough to where Enjolras can see his face, and he looks scared. He pretends to drop the imaginary pieces as he starts talking again, “Now that you have them, you are afraid to put them into their places; because you know when you do, they could fall back out. You know if they fall, you’ll crumble into a pile of mixed up puzzle pieces. Broken and never to be put back together.”

When he finishes, he looks over at Enjolras, and then walks off stage.  
______________________

Jehan watches Enjolras follow Grantaire as his cell phone buzzes.

**Courfeyrac:** Did you know he’d do that one? I didn’t.

**Jehan:** Nope. I’m a little surprised, since he said he’d never let Enjolras read that.

**C:** So E has no idea that’s about him, does he?

**JP:** Nope.

**C:** Do you think they’ll figure this out without us having to push the singing thing?

**JP:** Possibly.

**C:** Who is going to bring up the movie plan for tonight that’s supposed to happen at their place?

**JP:** We can when they finish their moment. I had forgotten about it, too.

**C:** You know I can never forget a party.

**JP:** Get down here. I want a kiss.

**C:** On my way!

________________________

Grantaire is standing in a corner backstage when Enjolras finds him. He fidgets with his thumbs and fingernails, “Sorry about that,” he apologizes to Enjolras.

“For what? That was amazing. I’ve never seen you do something like that.” Enjolras slows his pace and stops a few inches in front of Grantaire.

The dark haired man covers his face with his hands and makes a whimper-like sound, “Really?”

“Yes, really. You wrote that?” Enjolras wants to reach out for him, but he isn’t sure if Grantaire wants him to, so he shoves his hands in his pockets.

Grantaire peaks out from in between his fingers, “Yes.”

Enjolras laughs, “You look so adorable right now.”

The bashful one pulls Enjolras into a tight hug and leans back against the corner. 

Enjolras removes his hands from his pockets and holds Grantaire. “I’m serious, R. I didn’t know you could write like that.”

“It’s about you,” Grantaire admits to Enjolras’ chest.

“It is?” Enjolras’ voice sounds surprised.

“About how inspired I felt after I met you for the first time and the fear I had if I was to lose you.”   
Grantaire fidgets with the hem of Enjolras’ shirt.

“Is that why you walked off stage?” Enjolras lightly kisses the top of Grantaire’s head.

“Yeah,” Grantaire’s voice is a few notes higher than usual. “I never meant for you to hear that, but my mouth started talking before my brain remembered you were there.”

“I’m glad I heard it, R.” 

“I’m glad you liked it.” Grantaire presses a kiss into Enjolras’ chest. “Is today turning out the way you hoped?”

“I’m learning new things about you, and I’ve gotten to hold you in my arms. Which is more than I thought I’d have today.” 

“Let’s head back. You’ll get to hear me sing again, apparently.” Grantaire takes Enjolras’ hand, leading him back on stage.

Enjolras spends the rest of the day happily watching Grantaire sing and quote Shakespeare. He also loves seeing the set designs listen to the three men discuss the specifics to building sets. Grantaire and Enjolras both feel bad for forgetting about the party. They agree they could still host it. 

On the way home, Enjolras asks, “Are you sure about tonight?”

Grantaire looks over at him, “I don’t want to be the reason our friend’s plans are canceled.”

Enjolras can’t find the right words to say, so he offers Grantaire his hand, and the offer is accepted.  
__________________________

It takes two hours, four beers, more questions than he can count, and more people that he wants to deal with for Grantaire to retreat to his art room. Thirty minutes after that, the door opens. (It’ll either being Jehan or Enjolras, he knows this.) 

Blond hair is the first thing he sees.

“If you say the words ‘fix you’ or ‘fix this’, I’ll leave.” Grantaire says from his seat on the floor by his desk. He sips from the bottle of whiskey he brought in with him.

“None of that. I’m just worried.” Enjolras closes the door.

“I didn’t want to let them down, but today was too much, too quick, after last week.” Grantaire taps his feet together. “Courfeyrac mentioned something about it this morning, and I brushed it off.”

“What can I do to help?” Enjolras kneels down next to him.

“I just need to calm down. Everything from today has just built up. My mind won’t stop.” Grantaire looks over at the blond. “Overstimulated is a great word.” He tries to laugh, but it sounds off.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Grantaire snaps. “Can you hold me? Really tightly?”

“That will help?”

“It’s something to focus on.” Grantaire takes a bigger swallow of the whiskey. “Helps me focus and forget what’s in my head.”

Enjolras nods, as he gets up and turns off the light. He walks over to the couch, sits down, leaning back against the arm. Grantaire follows and curls up against Enjolras’ chest. 

“Thank you,” Grantaire whispers as Enjolras squeezes him tightly.

“I love you, R.”

“I love you, too.”

“Get some rest. I’ve got you.” Enjolras rubs Grantaire’s back with one hand, while keeping the other one tightly around his torso.

They both fall asleep like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi to me on [tumblr!](http://lolanae.tumblr.com/)


End file.
